


Use the Sleeves of My Sweater; Let's Have an Adventure

by littleboxesofstars



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: (kind of), (through the first movie), Alternate Universe - College/University, Birds, Bucket List, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, M/M, Repressed Pining, Road Trips, Tumblr Prompt, bill is vague and stan is confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16061951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxesofstars/pseuds/littleboxesofstars
Summary: Stan had a list. It was a list he’d put together after the near-death experience he’d had in middle school. Things he wanted to do, or see, or experience before he had to stare death in the face again. Nobody else knew about it, and it wasn’t written down anywhere; if he didn’t remember it on his own, he decided it wasn’t truly worth doing. He had five things he’d put on that list over the years. It wouldn’t hurt to start now."I’ve always wanted to see California." He said.





	Use the Sleeves of My Sweater; Let's Have an Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr request: sweater weather by the neighborhood + stenbrough! also poster to my tumblr @trash-the-tozier

The sound of pencil against paper paused, and at the stop Stan looked up. The sound of Bill sketching had been a near constant for the past half hour, sprawled across Stan’s bed while Stan himself sat at his desk, and Stan was wondering what had changed. 

Bill wasn’t looking down at his sketchbook. He was simply staring, Stan almost able to feel Bill’s eyes as they wandered his face. There was something in Bill’s expression that he couldn’t read, and Stan felt his cheeks get pink.

“What?” He asked. It had been roughly the same for the past three days now; college had let out for winter break, and Bill’s dorm hall had completely closed down. He was supposed to go home and live with his family during the break, but since tragedy had struck the Denbrough household when Bill was thirteen, Bill spent as little time at home as he could. He hated it; the awkward silences and quiet looks that were now more common than conversation. Especially during the holiday season, when extended family were more likely to be around. 

Bill hadn’t asked to come over and more-or-less live in Stan’s apartment. He’d just shown up near midnight, a backpack on and a duffel bag over his shoulder. Stan had been about to go to sleep when he heard the knock on his door, getting out of bed and pulling his sweater a little tighter around himself as he walked to the front of the apartment. He’d stepped back and let Bill in, and when they didn’t really talk about it the next morning, Stan assumed that they probably wouldn’t talk about it at all. 

“I d-don’t want to go home for Christmas.” Bill confessed. Stan had assumed wrong.

“Then don’t.” Stan said simply. He and his family had already celebrated Hanukkah, so he didn’t have any responsibilities until New Years. “You can stay here. It’s okay.” 

Worry edged itself from Bill’s expression, pushing away his sketchbook as he rolled onto his side. He was still looking at Stan’s face, Stan’s eyes flicking quickly to see what Bill had been drawing. It was him, Stan realized in surprise, the light curls a giveaway. The top half of the face hadn’t been finished yet, but the sketch had a nose, a chin, and lips drawn with careful detail. 

“I don’t really want to stay here either, though.” Bill said, contemplative this time. Less nervous; no stutter. He raised his eyebrows. “Is there anywhere you want to go?”

Stan’s first instinct was to say no, when nothing immediately came to mind. But Bill was genuinely asking, and he wracked his mind a little bit before remembering. 

Stan had a list. It was a list he’d put together after the near-death experience he’d had in middle school. Things he wanted to do, or see, or experience before he had to stare death in the face again. Nobody else knew about it, and it wasn’t written down anywhere; if he didn’t remember it on his own, he decided it wasn’t truly worth doing. He had five things he’d put on that list over the years. It wouldn’t hurt to start now. 

“I’ve always wanted to see California.” He said. Bill paused, drawing back a little. That was an answer he obviously wasn’t expecting. 

“California and Maine are on different sides of the country.” He said. Stan shrugged. 

“I know.” He said. “I know it’s crazy, I just…” He just wanted to. And maybe Bill could hear the unfinished end to his sentence because he began grinning, sitting up. 

“Then let’s go.” 

It was concerning, genuinely, how little planning was put into the decision. Stan kept wanting to talk about things like planning a route, and calling hotels to make reservations, but Bill swatted down every one of his concerns. They had an atlas, and money, and a car. They were fine. Stan wasn’t about spontaneity, but Bill was insisting on it. 

At six a.m. the next morning, without telling anyone, they hit the road. Neither of them were morning people, so it was a struggle over who would take the first shift to drive, but Stan decided that he was less likely to fully fall asleep behind the wheel and shoved Bill into the passenger seat before starting up his car. After double-checking the route to the highway, they were off. 

They were fully in New Hampshire when Bill woke up again. It had been snowing for the past hour, but it wasn’t sticking to the road, simply giving the trees around them a light dusting of white. 

“What made you want to go to California, anyway?” Bill asked. Stan shrugged, grateful that he had an excuse to stare at the road. Bill always looked sweet right after waking up, his hair a mess, sleep lines pressed into his face. 

“I have a list.” He said. “Or… Something like that.”

“Yeah? What else is on it?” 

“I…” Stan didn’t want Bill to know the full details of his list. Some of them were personal, and some of them were embarrassing. Some related to Bill specifically. “I’ll let you know when the opportunity comes up.”

“Why?” 

“To keep you on your toes.” Stan said, grinning. “Wouldn’t want you go get bored.”

Bill laughed a little from the passenger seat. “Okay, okay.”

They made it just inside Ohio after almost fifteen hours of driving, and though it was only nine at night, they stopped in a Wal-Mart parking lot and crashed hard. Stan stretched out across the back seat, Bill reclining in the front, and they were woken up by a policeman tapping on their window a little before seven. While they didn’t get into any trouble, it had been freezing all night, and Stan insisted on getting hotel rooms for the rest of the trip. Bill agreed, but said he needed coffee first. 

They passed into a new time zone when they hit Illinois, and stayed in a hotel room in Middle of Nowhere, Kansas. There wasn’t even a television in their hotel room, the heating in the room very weak, and after what could barely be called a meal of beer and pizza, Bill proposed a game.

“Game?” Stan asked. “Like… Like what, Hide and Seek? I Spy?” 

“No!” Bill laughed. Stan had a slight suspicion that Bill was a little drunk, but he had a slight suspicion that he himself was a little drunk too. “We’re not five. Let’s play Truth or Dare instead.”

“Okay, so we’re not five, we’re twelve.” Stan deadpanned. But Bill just raised his eyes imploringly, giving him a grin, and Stan knew he couldn’t say no. “Fine, fine. But I get to go first.” 

“Sure.” Bill allotted, meeting Stan’s eyes. 

“Truth or dare?” Stan asked. He knew, from games over the years, that Bill was more or a dare person. He himself was more of a truth person, and he was painfully aware that Bill knew that too. 

“Dare.” Bill answered, just as expected. Stan had to think for a moment. They didn’t have much to work with in the rather barren hotel room. 

“I dare you to… Drink an entire can of Coke in ten seconds.” 

Bill raised his eyebrows, but when he realized Stan was being serious, he started to laugh. 

“This is a waste.” He said as he got up to get the soda, but he popped the can open anyway. “Tell me when to start?” 

Stan did, counting down. Bill managed to drink about two-thirds of the soda, the other third going down his chin and the front of his shirt. Stan gave the win to him anyway. 

“Gross.” Stan told him, Bill taking his wet shirt off and dropping it on the floor.

“You asked for it.” Bill defended, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and Stan let himself look for just a few moments before pretending he wasn't. “And now I’m going to be burping for the next fifteen minutes, so you have that to look forward to.” That made Stan laugh, Bill grinning in response. “Truth or dare?”

"Truth." Stan decided. It was just easier, falling into old habits. 

"How many things are on your list?" Bill asked, and Stan glanced back at him. Night had long since fallen, and the only light in the room was a yellow glow coming from the lamp on the bedside table behind Stan. Bill was all soft skin, sharp points, and lean muscle, and Stan couldn't stop staring. 

"Five." He finally answered. 

"Five?" Bill asked. "There aren't more things you want to do before...?" 

"That isn't really what the list is about." Stan said. He knew what Bill meant, even without him saying it. "But no more questions; it's my turn again. Truth or dare?" 

Bill thought for a moment.

"Truth." 

Stan's next question felt painfully childish, but if there was ever a time to ask about dumb stuff like this, it was now. 

"Did you really kiss Beverly in middle school?" 

Bill laughed a little bit, but Stan couldn't help but notice how suddenly, Bill wasn't looking him in the face. His eyes were hovering just above his left shoulder. 

"Yeah." He said. "I did. And then she kissed me too. We wrote each other a lot of letters that year, and... I liked her. I liked her a lot.” 

Stan nodded a little. He'd known that, really, but knowing something and hearing it confirmed were two different things. Bill still wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“I don’t like her anymore. Not like that, at least.” He continued suddenly. His voice was a little louder, a little too loud for the close conversation they’d been having; they were sitting on Bill’s bed, cross-legged and facing each other. “I haven’t for a long time.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Stan shrugged. “I was just curious.” 

“Okay.” Bill’s face relaxed into a smile again. “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” 

“That's so boring, Stan!” Bill protested, but Stan just stuck his tongue out. It didn't take long for Bill to think of a question, though. “What’s another one of the things on your list?” 

Stan cycled through the items in his head, wanting to choose the safest one. 

“I want a pet bird.” He said, and Bill gave him an amused little grin. “I’ve done a lot of research, and I know how to take care of one. Now I just want to own one.” 

“Of course you do. I could have guessed that.” Bill said. “Tell me something on your list that would surprise me.” 

“No! You asked, and I delivered. Now it’s your turn. Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” Bill said. “See? I’m making it interesting.” 

“Whatever.” Stan said, rolling his eyes as Bill laughed. His eyes landed on Bill’s bag, an idea striking him. “I dare you to let me look through your sketchbook.” 

Bill’s eyes shifted over to his bag too, and he swallowed. The smile was gone, and for a moment, Stan felt nervous. 

“Just the first ten pages?” Stan offered. 

“I… Yeah. Ten pages.” Bill got up again, digging through his backpack. “But not the first pages, because those kinda suck.”

“Nothing you draw sucks, Bill.” Stan told him, a small grin tugging at Bill’s lips at the words as he flipped through the sketchbook, occasionally passing the book over to let Stan see. There were two portraits of Georgie, both smiling, one horrifyingly unflattering sketch of Richie, and a cute drawing of Mike, Eddie, and Beverly, Eddie getting a piggyback ride from Mike with all three of them laughing. The rest of the drawings were of Stan himself, all in candid positions; reading or sleeping or something like that, one of him in conversation with Ben, but Ben was nothing more than a sketchy outline, where Stan himself had been filled out in detail. 

“Oh, right.” Bill took that page back quickly, before Stan had fully looked at it. “I sort of forgot to finish that one.” 

“Do you, um…” Stan’s eyes followed Bill’s sketchbook as he dropped it on the floor. “How often do you draw me?” 

“You can't ask a question. It’s my turn.” Bill said; again, he was avoiding Stan’s gaze. “Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” Stan answered, after a long deliberation. He had a feeling that if he answered with truth one more time, he’d have to reveal more items on his list, and he didn’t want to do that. 

“I dare you to take your shirt off too.” Bill said, meeting Stan’s eye and grinning a little. “It’s kinda cold in here, and I feel weird being the only naked one.” 

  
  


 

Waking up in Bill’s bed without a shirt on wasn’t what Stan expected the next morning. He couldn’t even remember when they’d fallen asleep, but Bill was lying half on top of him, an arm slung across his chest to pull him in. Bill’s face was close to his own, and in the early morning light, Stan suddenly wished he had a sketchbook of his own, though he could never do a sight like this justice with just a pencil and paper. 

“We need to get up.” He said instead, because it was after eight and they had to hit the road. Bill let out a dissenting groan, curling in closer and pressing his face into Stan’s neck. He must have heard Stan’s pulse spike as heavily as Stan felt it, because not a second later he was rolling away, letting out a muffled apology into the pillow. 

“I… It’s--” Stan jumped from the bed because really, he didn’t have anything to say. “Let’s go.” 

They passed through their second time zone once they hit Colorado. It had been seven straight hours of driving, and they were going through some nondescript town that just happened to have a highway running through it when Bill pulled suddenly into the turn lane.

“Bill, what the—“

“We need to turn around.” Bill explained. 

“Are we going the wrong way?”

“No; we passed by a pet store.

“Pet store? What are you—“

“You want a bird, right?” Bill turned to him, a smile look on his face, and Stan couldn’t help but stare back. 

“Are you crazy?” He had to ask. “You think I should buy a bird, here? On the highway, two thousand miles away from home?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to look.” Bill defended. And Bill was behind the wheel, so Stan knew it would be useless to protest any further, resolving to simply do a courtesy sweep of the place before leaving, and insist that it was his turn to drive.

It was a slightly run-down second hand store, empty of customers when they walked in. The woman behind the counter was old, past middle age, and had a giant macaw on her shoulder.

“Welcome, boys!” She said happily. “What can I do for you today?” 

“We’re just here to look around.” Stan said quickly, before Bill could give her any ideas. “We thought it might be fun to stop by.” 

“Well, we don’t have any puppies or kittens, I’m afraid. Except Lucy, but she’s not for sale.” She pointed to a old grey cat that was lying in a patch of sun the counter. “But feel free to have a look!” 

Stan thanked her, and they began to walk through the store. As she said, all of the animals in the place were less usual pets, like reptiles and rodents, and all of them, from what Stan could tell, had been previously owned before finding their way here. He hadn’t thought about it, but he hadn’t really heard much about what happened to creatures like lizards and guinea pigs if their owners had to give them up. 

The bird section was small, but eclectic. A couple of parrots and cockatiels, with a very curious cockatoo that Bill found extremely amusing. What caught Stan’s eye were a couple of budgerigars, cuddled together on a rod in their cage. They were both blue, one’s head white, the other’s yellow. Before he knew it, he'd been watching them for nearly ten minutes, jumping when he realized he wasn't alone.

“I thought you were just here to look around.” It was the shopkeeper, a knowing glint in her eye.

“Can you tell me about these budgies?” Stan asked back, trying not to sound too eager.

“Well, they were dropped off here a little over three years ago.” She said with a sigh. “They act almost exactly like a mating pair, despite them being two females. I wouldn’t want one to go to a home without the other.”

She said the last sentence in a very pointed way, and Stan took a step back. 

“I wouldn’t--I mean, I’m not exactly--”

“Are you going to get them, Stan?” Bill was there, coming around behind him and putting his hands on Stan’s shoulders. “They’re cute birds.”

“Bill, we are in Colorado, we can’t--”

“Stan would take great care of them. He’s been reading books about birds since he was ten.” Bill told the shopkeeper, who smiled in delight. 

“I usually price birds like this at twenty-five each, but I’ll put one at half off if you’re interested in both of them.” 

Suddenly, both of them were staring at him, waiting for his decision. The rational side of Stan’s mind was yelling at him about how ridiculous this was, but the entire situation was a ridiculous one, and both of the birds were beautiful, curled together in their cage. 

Budgies were inexpensive, common birds, Stan told himself. He could leave these here, and find some at a petstore in Maine, where he could already have a cage set up. These were just two random birds.

Except they weren’t; they were precious, and he’d already named them Mahaney and Diamond, and he was saying yes before he could talk himself out of it any further. He told Bill the names as the shopkeeper was ringing up the birdseed and toys they were buying, and Bill began to laugh. 

“Mahaney Diamond? Where our college team plays baseball?” Bill rested his head against Bill’s shoulder, for a moment, still chuckling. “Nerd.” 

“They’re good names!” Stan insisted at the name-calling, though it was said with an undeniable level of affection that made Stan's heart constrict in his chest. It was that, more than the continued laugher, that made him grumble and shove at Bill's chest. “Oh, shut up.” 

“Here you are.” Everything was paid for, the woman giving them both smiles, her eyes resting on Stan. “You and your boyfriend take good care of my birds, alright?” 

“We will.” Stan assured, before the reality of what she said hit him and he had to pause, just for a moment. But Bill was already at the door, Stan hurrying after him. 

“You alright?” Bill asked, once the birds were secured safely in the backseat.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just…” Stan knew that he was acting too distracted to try and play it off. “She called you my boyfriend, that's all.”

“Oh.” Bill didn't seem anything but slightly surprised. “That's cute, kind of.” 

“I--what?” 

“Yeah.” Bill laughed. “My cute, bird-owning, baseball-loving boyfriend. I don't think I would mind that.”

Stan couldn't help but wonder, for the shortest of moments, if he was dreaming. Bill had just painted a picture of everything Stan wanted.

They drove late into the night, collapsing into hotel beds and rising early. They had to smuggle the birds from the car, and then back into it again, but Stan still didn’t regret getting them. They were bright and gorgeous, chirping and chittering to each other. 

It was a little after eight in the morning when they realized that they only had ten hours left in their road trip. Bill took the news in stride, taking pause at the next gas station they stopped at to make a call while Stan filled up the car. 

“What was that about?” Stan asked. 

“Made a reservation.” Bill answered. “We’re staying in a tiny beach house.”

“Beach house?” Stan asked back. “I hate the beach, Bill.”

“You can’t go to California and not go to the beach.” Bill argued back. Stan found that not going to the beach would be a remarkably easy thing to do, and rather simple to accomplish, but couldn't debate him much further. The reservation had already been made--a rather cheap one, considering that nobody else wanted to go to the beach in the winter--and Bill had gone along with the rest of this crazy plan almost flawlessly. He deserved this. 

They were exhausted when they arrived. The beach house was rather adorable, all wooden and painted blue and up on stilts. It was windy and cuttingly cold on the walk to the door, the smell of the ocean everywhere around them. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” Bill offered around a yawn, dropping their suitcases on the living room floor. Stan raised an eyebrow, putting the birdcage down on the kitchen table. Mahaney and Diamond had tucked their heads under their wings. 

“Go to bed?” 

“Yeah, I’m tired. And so are you, I can tell.”

“It’s six o’clock, though. The sun hasn't even set yet, and all we’ve done today is drive.” 

“Well, what do you want to do?” Bill asked him. He did look rather worn out, and suddenly Stan felt very sympathetic. It was early, sure, but they could go to sleep. “Something on your list? What's left?

Stan had to think for a moment. With them in California, two birds now in tow, he only had three items left. 

“I’ve always wanted to spend the night in a castle.” He finally said. Between all of the options, that was probably the best one, despite him knowing that they couldn’t accomplish it. Not here, in the tiny beach house.

Bill though, began to smile. 

“Okay.” He said. “Just for you; a castle, coming right up.” 

He took a paper plate and uncapped a sharpie, writing “Castle Denbrough” on it, and taping it above the bedroom door.

“Now come on.” He took Stan’s wrist, and tugged. “Let’s go to bed.”

  
  


 

The problem with going to bed incredibly early is waking up incredibly early, too. The clock on the wall told Stan that it was a little after five in the morning but he was wide awake, lying next to Bill and staring at the ceiling, everything about the situation hitting him at once. 

“Stan?” Came a sleepy murmur from next to him. God, Stan loved hearing Bill say his name. “Are you awake?” 

“Yeah.” Stan answered. “I’m just… I just realized how insane this is.” 

“Yeah.” Bill gave a chuckle, his voice rough with sleep. “It is. Cool though, right?” 

That made Stan laugh too. It only took Bill a couple of moments to wake up more fully, and then, wearing their warmest pairs of sweats and wrapped up in blankets, they got up. It was dark, Bill clicking on lights as they went, curling up on the couch as Stan gave Mahaney and Diamond more food. Then Stan came to sit next to him. 

“You only have two more items on your list.” Bill said. “What do you want to do today?”

“I don't know.”Stan confessed. “The last two things, they aren't really…”

“What are they?” 

“Well, one of them is dancing.” Stan said quickly. And the other one he'd planned on taking to the grave. “You know, like classic, ballroom dancing. I don't know how to do any of that, and I've kinda always wanted to.” 

“Oh, okay.” To Stan's surprise, Bill got to his feet. He beckoned Stan to follow him, and suddenly they were standing in the middle of the living room, feet bare and blankets over their shoulders like capes. 

“Do you know how to dance, Bill?” Stan asked, and Bill shrugged, placing one of Stan's hands on his shoulder and gripping Stan's other hand in his own.

“A little.” He answered. “My dad used to like to dance to what my mom was playing on the piano. He would pick up Georgie, and spin around the room with him, stuff like that. When I was a kid, I always wanted to dance with him, so he ended up teaching me how to waltz, sort of.” Bill shrugged a little. “It's been ten years, so I don't really remember it that well, but we could give it a try.” 

“Okay.” Stan murmured, feeling the need to be quiet, because they were so close to each other now. Bill gave him a small smile, tightened his grip on Stan's hand, and began telling him how to move his feet. It was a lot of stumbling for the first thirty minutes, but eventually Stan understood the pattern, and they were moving around the living room with some semblance of grace. 

“Wait.” Stan said, though he didn't stop moving his feet. “Are you leading?” 

“I am the one teaching you.” Bill pointed out.

“But if I ever try to dance with anyone else--”

“Just don't, then.” Bill said quickly. “Dance with anyone else, I mean.” 

Stan let out a small laugh, but when Bill didn't laugh along, Stan had to fully, actually pause. He had a question, a question that had been poking at him hopefully over the past few days. He had to know what it meant, that Bill had so many drawings of him in his sketchbook. Why Bill would sometimes say things, and then refuse to meet his eyes.

But Bill fully stepped away from him, his gaze over Stan's shoulder, Stan turning to look too. The sky was lightening up outside, the sun coming up over the horizon.

“Want to go watch the sunrise?” Bill proposed, but it wasn't really a question; he was already tugging on Stan's hand, pulling him towards the door. Both barefoot, they stumbled across the dried grass and sand, making their way to the beach. 

The sky was already lit up in colors, the clouds all glowing wisps of pink and gold. All beaches were incredibly windy and this one was no exception, the December chill gusting against them, cutting through Stan's knit sweater and putting a chill in his bones.

“Cold?” Bill asked, and Stan realized he must have been shivering. He nodded, Bill stepping in front of him to block the wind, then reaching back and gripping both of Stan's wrists, pulling Stan's arms around him in a hug. Both hands now placed over Stan's own, Bill slotted his fingers between Stan's, putting their hands in the pockets of his sweater.

“There.” He said. “Better?”

Stan couldn't respond, his heart too high up in his throat. But Bill seemed to take his silence as an affirmative answer, resting comfortably against Stan's chest. 

“Bill?” Stan finally managed. He sounded nervous and wrecked, and that wasn't what he wanted, despite how accurate it was. 

“Yeah?”

“What does this--drawing pictures of me, driving all the way across the country, helping me accomplish all of these things--what does this mean?”

Bill was silent for a moment before turning completely around in Stan's arms, now facing him, but still just as close. His hands had let go of Stan's, now on Stan's upper arms instead.

“What do you want it to mean?” He asked back, his voice quiet.

“It's just… I have one more thing on my list.”

Bill simply looked into his eyes, prompting him to continue.

“I want to kiss you.”

Bill's hands tightened around his arms, and before Stan could do much else, Bill was leaning in. He paused when their faces were just a breath away, searching Stan's eyes. So Stan reached up, his hands on each side of Bill's face, and kissed him. 

They were standing completely barefoot on the beach, thousands of miles away from home, the sky completely illuminated above them with deep waves crashing in the background. But Stan had his eyes closed, his heart completely content, holding the world in his hands. 


End file.
